


Crossing Lines

by godotismissing



Series: This Shouldn't Happen to Me [4]
Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alpha!John, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon-Typical Violence, Fisting, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omega!Harry, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 04:52:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16988385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godotismissing/pseuds/godotismissing
Summary: A mishap during a fight sends Harry into an early heat. John helps.





	Crossing Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Hell's Bells, it's been slightly over a YEAR since I last updated this series which is fucking ridiculous, I know. And to think the beginning of this fic was written before any of the rest were.  
> To all the readers who have left me comments and kudos and generally just wanted another part, this is for you. I'm sorry it took so long. Life got in the way and I also had a ridiculously hard time finishing this.  
> Also at the moment, this fic is un-beta'd so there might be errors but I wanted to put it out there just to stop myself from revising it again and again which wth for a pwp lol
> 
> This is the final part of this series. Enjoy!

“Why am I always saving your ass?” Dresden wheezed angrily as he dodge another blast, close enough to singe his hair.

John threw himself sideways and rolled behind a pillar while reloading. “I beg to differ. I happen to remember saving yours more than once.” Without even a word of thanks. Dresden was incapable of gratitude or anything resembling tact or politeness but only, as John noticed, when it came to dealing with him. He fired a shot at the warlock which ricochet harmlessly off some sort of invisible shield but it did make the man pause and bristle..

“Perhaps it would have been a better strategy to stay with Miss Murphy and my men rather than attempting,” John snapped. “To set a trap where we would have been cornered.”

“How was I to know the idiot had a demon juice him up? Besides, I think Murphy and Cujo are a little busy dealing with the liderc.”

Liderc. Sex demon, Dresden had explained. And added pointedly that the string of recent murders in Chicago was all because some warlock had the hots for oganised crime scum and went on a jealous rampage by summoning what was essentially a demon that fed off lust. And the warlock also promptly lost control of his sex demon. They had left Murphy, Hendricks and Gard to deal with the rampaging sex demon and tracked the warlock here.

Dresden brought up a shield just as the warlock launched what looked like a torrent of red plasma in their direction. “You couldn’t have just fucked him, could you?” Dresden snarled for the upteenth time. “Save us the trouble of dealing with his lusty-ass!” 

John ignored him, just like he ignore the previous ten quips. Knowing what Dresden looked like when he was writhing in pleasure didn't stop him from coming off as an annoying smartass.

Dresden had been acting rather antsy lately, more aggressive and confrontational when they met which was few and far between, and typically business related. John would even go as far to say, Dresden was actively avoiding him, back on heat suppressors and keeping as much distance between them as possible.

Strange black creatures were forming from the shadows of the empty clubhouse. “Dresden,” John hissed, firing into a humanoid mass. It didn’t seem to have any effect. Dresden muttered something under his breath and bright white light flooded the room, blinding John and dispersing the shadows momentarily. 

John blinked spots from his vision. “A little warning would be appreciated next - _Harry, get down_!” But the warning was a second too late and the spell hit Dresden squarely in the chest. He tumbled backwards looking stunned. John emptied his clip and reloaded but the warlock had vanished deeper into the building.

He glanced back at Dresden who was sitting up. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…. Didn’t hurt at all actually. Weird.” Then he let out a choked gasp and fell silent, eyes going round. John could hear his breathing pick up, turning erratic, and in the dim light of the room he thought Dresden looked uncomfortably red.

“Dresden, tell me what’s going on right now.”

No reply. John watched, his irritation rising, as Dresden patted frantically at his pockets, pulled out a small vial and drained the contents. He then sat back and took a few deep breaths. After a moment, he looked considerably relieved.

“Okay,” he said, bouncing to his feet with his staff and blasting rod secured. “Let’s get this love-sick bastard.”

John fought the urge to punch him..“Do I have to drag every explanation out of you?” 

“Some sort of uh - curse,” Dresden said with an extra show of nonchalance that meant he was hiding something and had no intention of telling. “Luckily I prepared for emergencies just like this. The fallout is awful but it should hold for two or three hours.”

He still looked pleased with himself, with what he probably thought was extreme foresight, consequences be damned. “And what exactly is going to happen after?” John asked, keeping up with Dresden’s massive strides while swapping his semi-automatic for a shotgun. Knowing Dresden, ‘fallout’ could range from a year long case of flu to dropping dead on the spot. 

A guilty expression crossed Dresden’s face. “Not sure exactly. This is the first - “ He never finished the sentence, whirling to blast back a pale humanoid creature with sharp claws and no eyes.

John had an inkling what Dresden was going to say and it just made him want to grab and shake him. He fired a round at a creature in mid-leap to his left flank. “What the hell are they?”

“Demons, I think. They look like Crawlers!”

‘What?”

“You know, from The Descent? Of course you wouldn't know.” Dresden said, rolling his eyes. “You fill your free time plotting world domination or something.”

In the next hour they fought their way through a horde of crawlers which Dresden burned and blasted through like a man pumped full of unidentified substances. John never had any problem admitting that Dresden’s magic, his power, was impressive to behold. This time was no different although it seemed to run a little wild.

John threw a knife into the throat of a crawler creeping up behind Dresden and narrowly avoided a jet of flame for his efforts. “Dresden, you give a new meaning to the term friendly-fire.”

“Ha-fucking-ha,” Dresden snapped. He looked decidedly paler, sweat streaming down his face and his pupils blown wide. All in all, not a good sign. The only bright side to the situation was that the enemy was perhaps a worst strategist than Dresden and had spent most of his magic on summoning creatures from the Nevernever. Once Dresden made an opening, John moved fast. The first shot hit the surprised warlock in the shoulder and sent him spinning. John fired again and missed only because an invisible force yanked the man out of the way and left him crumpled on the floor, injured but alive. The remaining crawlers slunk back into the shadows.

John lowered his gun, annoyed. 

“Nope, no, no way. Not on my watch. We’ll leave him to the White Council,” Dresden said. He was sitting on the ground again, panting. The flush was back along with… it was faint, overpowered by the smell of smoke, sulphur and blood, but John recognised the familiar scent of an oncoming storm. It smelled wrong, an underlying coat of bitterness that made it strange.

He stared at Dresden. “Can you stand?” he asked at last.

Dresden snorted and climbed shakily to his feet. “Yeah.” If John was anyone else, he was sure Dresden would be grateful for a hand instead of leaning on his staff like a cave hermit. But high on adrenaline, with alpha instincts swinging between the urge to claim and the need to protect, he didn’t want to risk coming too close to an omega that smelled like he was cycling into heat. If Dresden was anyone else, John wouldn’t have cared. Right now, he felt his own pulse surging in response.

And Dresden’s heat was coming on fast. He was forced to lean on John when he couldn’t hold himself up after a few metres, tremors wrecking through his body. “Fucking spell… stupid warlock,” he mumbled. It took a moment for John to realise Dresden was talking to him. “The potion sort of worked out but. Like I s-said. Bad fallout. Oh, fuck,” he moaned.

For one wild moment, John wanted to push him down and fuck him then and there, on the floor of the ruined clubroom. He was suddenly reminded how long since he had been in such close proximity to Dresden. He had never taken Dresden during heat. It was always after or before, when hormones were still high but not enough to rob them of rational thought. “Hang in there, Harry,” he gritted out trying breathe shallowly. He shifted Dresden’s weight with a grunt, sweat trickling down his back. Dresden pressed to his side was burning up like a furnace.

He half dragged, half carried Dresden to the entrance, which felt much too far away. Karrin Murphy came running through the doors, a cut on her cheek and her clothes torn in several places, with Hendricks and Gard behind her. 

“Harry! Oh, shit.” She touched his face briefly and turned to give John a dirty look as if he was at fault for the state of Dresden’s current predicament. 

“Wha - Murph?” Dresden slurred. “You... okay?”

“Yes. And you’re not. Come on. We need to get you home.” She looked determined enough to carry Dresden all on her own if she needed too. But one had to be realistic. Dresden was not a light man.

“You good, boss?” Hendricks asked, appearing behind Murphy. “That demon thing - ” He stopped, stared at Dresden then took a step back. John noted the blood running down his temple, the suit that looked more rumpled than ever and his was missing tie. Behind him Gard was looking as impeccable as ever. Hendricks cleared his throat.

“Marcone, let go of him,” Murphy said.

He wanted to point out that contrary to what she thought, it was Dresden who clinging to him, breath hot against John’s neck. He seemed to be fighting very hard to keep still. John took a moment to grapple with his instincts. “Dresden, you still with me?”

A pause. “Yes,” Dresden said tightly.

“Gard and Murphy are going to help you to the car.” He pitched his voice only for Dresden's ears and said, “Do you want me along?” Dresden shivered.

“No,” he said slowly after a long pause. “I’ll be… I can handle it.” He pulled way, shaking his head like he was trying to clear it. His eyes were glazed, pupils blown back, a complicated expression on his face. John was hit by an overwhelming urge to snatch Dresden back, lock him somewhere John could keep an eye on his well-being - a wholly irrationally urge.

And he could see in that moment, Dresden wanted to be owned. 

But by sheer will or resolution of some sort, Dresden was walking away, leaning on Gard and Murphy for support. John realised his fingers were digging into his palms and he forced them to relax.

“Good call, boss, “ Hendricks said quietly. “For a moment there i thought you were gonna shoot the lieutenant's head off then we’d be in real trouble.”

He had to swallow twice before he spoke. “Call the cleaners to deal with this mess.” The sound of a car engine could be heard coughing to life. Gard returned, with a curious twist to her lips.

“Humans have such strange biology,” she remarked, casting a subtle glance at Hendricks. “I have sent a message to the White Council and will stay with the warlock till they arrive. I think it best if both of you return home.” 

John watch her follow the trail of destruction, movements brisk and efficient. “Gard or Murphy?” he asked.

Hendricks turned an interesting shade of red. “It wasn’t like that.” But he refused to elaborate and only muttered, “I hate sex demons.”

\--

 

John was in a bad mood.

He had gone home after that, the edge of a rut creeping up on him, turned on but too tired to do anything than jerk himself off once in the shower. He woke up the next day feeling restless after some goddamn dreams about Dresden that ruined the sheets. He felt like a fucking teenager and it was pissing him off. It got so bad that Hendricks suggested he get himself laid, if only to work off some steam. John took his advice for once, called himself an omega escort, not one of his, or at least far enough removed through several layers of hierarchy that he wouldn’t have to deal with her ever again.

And though she was tall, slim, athletic, dark haired and very good at her job she sure as fuck wasn’t Dresden. 

He left her sleeping in a messy tangle of sheets. It was when he was lighting a cigarette - the first one in years - he realised that Dresden was a problem. Not that he wasn’t always a problem but now he was a more dangerous kind. 

John stared out into the city skyline. He had no issues admitting that he didn’t mind owning Dresden in some way, employee or bed partner, both served an interest. But it was an objective one. Wanting him as a mate was another matter entirely. Bonding went both ways which meant giving control and power to someone else and John wasn’t sure if he liked the idea.

He inhaled deeply and blew out a stream of smoke with a sigh. Dresden was never one for rules. To be fair, neither was John. He wondered when they went from skipping out on each other post-coital sleep to spending the night and the morning after together, when did they start having sex on a semi-regular basis when it was always supposed to be a thing of necessity. Then Dresden had slammed the walls back down with the same brutal force of his magic. He understood the reason Dresden was pulling away but the fact he was affected by it meant he was already too invested in this relationship. 

The next day wasn’t any better for his state of mind. He assumed Dresden must have sorted out whatever mind-fuckery, sadistic mojo that warlock had cast on him or else he would have been getting reports that Chicago’s resident wizard had died.. 

Forty-five minutes into an annual report, John heard shouting outside the office coupled with Amanda's growing protests. John looked up from the report he was trying to read to see Lieutenant Murphy bursting through the doors, badge in one hand, his apologetic secretary looking harassed behind her.

“I’m so sorry Mister Marcone. She just -”

“It’s alright Amanda. Miss Murphy,” John said. “How can I help you?”

Murphy waited until the door clicked shut behind Amanda’s retreating back before speaking. “Harry needs your help.”

John pushed away the initial flare of worry and turned his steely gaze on her. Karrin Murphy was obviously not having a good week. There was a tightness to her mouth and dark circles under her eyes that spoke of lack of sleep. “If he needs my help he can ask me himself,” he said.

“He _can’t_ ,” she snarled. Then squeezed her eyes shut like it was physically painful for her to be there. “So I’m doing it for him. His heat won’t go down. In fact, it’s getting worse.”

“Then get him to a hospital. Or hire an alpha to fuck him,” John said even when the idea made something ugly twist in his guts. There was a whole service of alphas and omegas just for this kind of thing. And if John remembered correctly, there was also Thomas Raith. He wasn’t an alpha but he was a vampire of the White Court who could do just as well.

“And how the fuck do I explain the equipment breaking down or when the drugs don’t take effect? Don’t put yourself on the high ground, Marcone. He keeps calling your name, god fucking knows why,” she spat. 

John looked sharply at her but she met his gaze head on without batting an eye. She must have an inkling by now that Dresden and him shared more than the occasional threatening words. Either she was playing dumb or in denial.

“I can get a personal doctor to him,” John said, automatically. Dresden had been asking for him. 

“We’ve discussed it and agreed the best thing is for him to fuck it out of his system,” she said matter-of-factly.”If you don’t want to help him, that’s fine. All the better. We’ll find someone else.” She waited, eyes blazing. 

He found it hard to pull his thoughts together, trying to turn the implications of what she said in his mind. “He isn’t in his right mind,” he said finally. 

‘Damn right he isn’t,” Murphy agreed. “But it’s his choice, at least as close to one he can make.” She didn’t bother to hide how much she despised the idea. “Now are you going to help or not?”

John buzzed the intercom. “Amanda, please cancel my meetings for today.” He was about to suggest Murphy leave while he wrapped up his work and left instructions in his absence but one look at her face told him she wasn’t moving until she personally saw him to Dresden’s apartment. John ignored her impatient bristling, got his files in order and left a message for Hendricks. Then he removed a small medical kit from the drawer, opening it to reveal a few vials and a syringe.

“What is that?” Murphy asked, suspiciously.

“Inhibitors,” John said, rolling up his sleeves. He hadn’t had to use them for a long time but always kept some on hand for emergencies. If Dresden’s heat was as dire as Murphy made it up to be, John wanted to approach him with a clear mind - he didn’t trust his control around Dresden. The inhibitors would stop him from reacting to Dresden’s pheromones. He filled a syringe, gave himself a shot in the arm before disposing the needle.

Murphy watched him, arms folded and mouth a thin line. She exhaled slowly through her nose, some of the fight bleeding out of her. “I thought you’d leap at the chance. Anything to get him under your thumb.”

John refrained from telling her all the different times Dresden had been under him. He smiled coldly at her, “I prefer a willing mate. Shall we?”

\--

Outside Dresden’s apartment, Murphy said, “If you try to use this against him in any way, I will kill you.” She meant it of course. John doubted she could accomplish the feat but it wouldn’t be from the lack of trying. John nodded all the same. He respected her protectiveness over Dresden.

“Is he lucid at all?”

“Mostly. He’s in pain, I think.” Murphy’s pause was the only warning John got before she opened the door. The air was thick with pheromones and heat-scent, unnaturally strong, not quite like Dresden’s usual scent. Even with his system pumped full of inhibitors, he found himself growing warm, arousal tightening in his guts.

Murphy crossed the threshold and John followed carefully - someone must have deactivated the wards or perhaps Dresden had changed them to recognise John, the former was more likely. Dresden’s massive beast of a dog and his cat was nowhere in sight, which was in itself curious. Like most magical practitioners, Dresden’s apartment was sorely depleted of modern conveniences. In the July heat, the place was like a sauna.

“He’s basically barricaded himself in his room,” Murphy said, knocking on the door. “Harry! Open up, I brought help.” There was no reply. John heard a faint groan, something heavy hitting the ground, then silence for the longest time. 

John was about to suggest they force an entry when the door opened to reveal Dresden in all his dishevelled naked glory. Murphy stuttered a curse and turned her gaze away, cheeks pinking.

“Murph?’ Dresden slurred. He stiffened when he saw John.

John couldn’t tear his eyes away even if he wanted to. Dresden looked wrecked. There were tear tracks running down his face and his lips was swollen red and shiny with spit from being chewed on. His hair was matt from sweat and god knew what else, belly and thighs coated in fresh and drying slick. John tracked the scratches and crescent nail marks on his arms to his heaving flushed chest to his swollen red cock.

John met his eyes. “Hey,” he said softly. 

Dresden was having a hard time focusing, swaying towards John with eyes glazing over and panting heavily. “Why are you _here_?” he growled, the hoarseness of his voice like fingernails running down John’s back.

“You seem to be holding up just fine,” John said, with an ironic smile. 

“You caught me at... a good time,” Dresden croaked, gaze dropping to John’s mouth and unconsciously dragging his tongue over his lips. The alpha in him wanted to put Dresden on his knees and give him better things to do with his mouth. In this state, Dresden would do it willingly too. John wasn’t even sure how he was resisting when most omegas wouldn’t even be standing.

He stepped back, putting more space between them and keeping his own instincts in check. Dresden staggered past him, heading to the kitchen, oblivious to his own nudity and seemingly forgetting Murphy's presence. John exhaled heavily, feeling lightheaded and wire-tight by the force of his own lust. “Christ,” he muttered, removing his jacket and tie.

Murphy watched him with an unreadable expression on her face. John was willing to bet that Dresden’s lack of violent outburst from seeing his supposedly mortal enemy had at least confirmed her suspicions. But all she said was, “Honestly, I’m impressed, Marcone,” Her eyes darkened.. “I’ve seen alphas around an omega in heat. It wasn’t pretty.” She made for the door. “I’ve stocked water and food. Call me if you need anything, my number’s on the table. Take care of him.” With one last warning glare, she opened the door and slipped out quietly.

John sighed and went to the kitchen. Dresden was chugging down a bottle of water like his life depended on it John leaned against the doorway and watch him pour half of the contents on himself. It was like the start of a really bad porno. He would have made a quip about that if he didn’t feel so fucking turned on by the sight of water running down Dresden’s throat and chest.

“Murphy left,” John said.

Dresden grabbed another bottle and steered around John, not making eye contact, head lowered. A submissive gesture even if he didn’t realise what he was doing. “I said I could handle it,” he said, an edge to his voice.

“That was two days ago,” John pointed out. Was Dresden even aware of that? He straightened and snagged Dresden’s arm before he could walk past. The air was suddenly heavy with omega-musk, Dresden almost dropped the bottle, long frame curling into John, trembling as fresh slick gushed down his thighs.

Dresden groaned softly and tried to jerk away. John’s free hand came up to clamp on the back of his neck, thumb and finger digging just under the hinge of his jaw, squeezing. “Harry, let me help you,” John said scenting along his ear, feeling Dresden shudder and rock forward helplessly, the hard length of him pressing against John’s hip. 

Dresden pushed his face into the curve of John’s neck, breath hot and skin even hotter. “You smell really good,” he said, voice hitching. They stayed that way, John petting the back Dresden's neck, blood thrumming in his ears, feeling like he was about to come out of his own skin. 

“Here, come on,” John said when Dresden started to sag. He wrapped an arm around Dresden’s waist and walked him unsteadily back to bed. The room was even worse than the hall. John inhaled sharply, involuntarily, pheromones hitting the back of his throat. Slick stained sheets and clothes littered the floor. At one point, Dresden had been changing them regularly before he had given up because the bed was a fucking mess.

The moment John lowered him onto the bed, Dresden groaned and rolled on his front, pushing himself up in his knees. John’s breath caught. He was fucking presenting. Blood was roaring in John’s ears. He couldn't fucking think, because Dresden would never, had never, not in his right mind, not for any alpha and certainly not for John.

Dresden keened, raw and desperate and begging with every shift of his body. John was afraid to touch him. He’d always pushed Dresden when they fucked because Dresden liked it, demanded it, could stand up to John's will and give as good as he got. But not like this when an alpha’s word meant complete submission. 

There was no point asking if Dresden was sure, if this was what he wanted but still he said, “Harry, I’m going to…” _Breed you_. “Touch you.” Dresden was curling forward as if in pain, whispered please between erratic breaths, so wet he was dripping onto the sheets. 

John swallowed, reached out to brush his fingers over flushed heated skin. Dresden was shaking, so was John in an effort to keep his control, fighting instincts that screamed at him to take, use and claim the body beneath him. He pressed his palm against the small of Dresden’s back - he was burning up - slid down, down, to the hot pulsing folds, slick coating his fingers as he rubbed against Dresden’s loose, sloppy hole.

“Fuck,” John murmured, two fingers breaching Dresden easily all the way to the knuckles. He licked sweat beading on his upper lip, ignored his own throbbing erection as he worked a third finger into Dresden who rocked back with a moan, face pressed against the mattress and hands clenching. John reached around and grasped Dresden's cock, stroking and squeezing. 

Dresden let out a choked gasp, lowering himself onto his elbows and although his cock was dribbling, he didn't, couldn't come. “ _Can't,_ ” he panted. “I need,” - series of broken moans - “Need you to fuck me, need your knot - _please_ ,” the words ending in desperate whine. 

“You're going to try,” John said, his voice so low it came out almost a growl. He had four fingers in Dresden now, wet heat clenching down hard as John worked his thumb in and pushed. He wasn't doing this as some sort of drawn out torture-play but Dresden had very explicitly pointed out several times that he would only take John's knot when he wasn't heat-crazed

The sound Dresden made was barely human, his whole body clamping down on John's hand, even with all that slick it had to be too much - but still John pushed, fucking him slowly, fucking him deeper each time until his fist was pressing against the mass of nerves inside Dresden. And then Dresden was coming with a relief sob, little _uh uh uhs_ and garbled nonsense words - whole body shaking as he spilled into John's hand.

Dresden all but collapsed, John steadied his hips, smearing come over his skin as he slowly worked his slick coated fist out. His own erection was straining painfully in the confines of his slacks. He didn't touch himself, the pain of his neglected arousal somehow keeping his focus sharp and on Dresden. He brought his fingers to sniff; the strange acrid smell was still there mixed with Dresden's natural scent. Not completely purged then.

Dresden had his eyes close and was breathing hard. John got off the bed, wiping his hands on the sheets. He found a towel, wetted it in the bathroom sink and used it to wipe the worst off Dresden, who mumbled incoherently, letting John shift him this way and that..

After piling the dirty sheets and clothes into one corner, then removing a dildo from under the pillow, John clambered back onto the bed, settling against Dresden's back. The inhibitors were doing their job. The urge to fuck Dresden into the next Sunday was ever present but under control. 

He brushed Dresden’s sweat damp hair back from his forehead, still hot to the touch. “How are you feeling?”

Dresden twisted around and blinked hazily at him. “Better,” he whispered, voice ragged. “But still like shit.” His gaze was still unfocused and his scent was starting to spike again. “I fucking _hate_ this,” he groaned, rolling closer and burrowing his face into the space between John’s shoulder and neck. 

“You want to explain what you did?” John asked, shuddering as Dresden tugged impatiently at his shirt, hands sliding roughly, desperate to touch bare skin. In response, Dresden rolled on top of him, leaving open-mouth hungry kisses across his chest while working John’s pants open. “ _Harry_ ,” John said in a strangled voice. He wanted to stop Dresden but his limbs didn’t seem to be cooperating - hot hands were tugging his cock free and John exhaled sharply as he nearly came. 

“You didn’t fuck me,” Dresden said almost accusingly, one hand wrapped around John's cock, reaching around with the other to touch himself where he was slick and loose. John stared as Dresden smeared his own slick onto John's cock before bringing his fingers to his mouth and absently sucking the remaining slick on them. It was one of the _filthiest_ things John had ever seen. He realised he was gripping Dresden's thighs hard enough to bruise and panting so hard his mouth was dry.

“You're making this very difficult, Dresden,” John growled. Something in him was shaking loose, he could feel his control unraveling like a physical thread. He was so fucking hard it hurt. The muscle beneath his hands flexed as Dresden rocked forward - he was hard as well - cock rubbing against John, gearing to lift himself up. John dug his nails into Dresden's hips to still him and felt the warm wetness gush down his balls, between his thighs, smelt the sweet scent of omega musk saturate the air. 

Dresden moan was pure frustration. “I _need_ this, need your knot. You have no idea how much. It's fucking torture. All the time I was writhing on my bed, thinking how great if I could stuff myself full of alpha cock then I wouldn't be in so much fucking pain.” He was snarling the last few words, fingers clawing down John's chest and coming to grip the base of John's cock. 

_That's because you're a risk-taking idiot_ , John wanted to tell him but it was hard to protest when Harry fucking Dresden was sinking down onto your cock, back arching with a groan of pleasure. He was loose enough that the slide was easy, the heat of him that surrounded John's hand earlier felt entirely different now, lighting pleasure that made his balls tight and his pulse sing. There was a possibility that Dresden would remember nothing of this and deny everything he had said later. He had always been exceedingly good at lying to himself.

At this point, John couldn't bring himself to care. Dresden was making desperate little sounds each time he lifted his hips and worked John's cock back in. John propped himself up on his elbows, feet flat on the mattress so he could thrust up to meet Dresden's rhythm, the sound of skin slapping on skin and harsh breathing the only noise in the room. 

He had been teetering close to the edge since this mess begin and all it took to tip him over was Dresden leaning forward, hips stuttering to sink his teeth into John's shoulder, biting hard enough to draw blood. He came in long hot pulses, moaning. Dresden clenched around him through his own orgasm, painting John's stomach with warm spurts of come. John shivered, trying to catch his breath, could feel his knot starting to swell. 

He pulled out and surged upwards, rolling Dresden beneath him. Dresden went with it easily, wrapping his arms around John, legs falling open, offering. John drove back into that tight heat. Beneath him, Dresden went taut with a breathless groan, long legs locking around John. He forced himself to move slowly, drawing out each thrust, each time his swelling knot meeting more resistance as he thrust back in, Dresden stretched around him, punched-out gasps broken with _yes, please_ and _fuck_.

Dresden keened like he was dying and came again, clawing John’s back as as John pushed, finally fully sheathed and unable to move, knot locking them in place. John shifted, trying to get into a more comfortable position but Dresden whimpered each time so he gave up, July heat and sweat be damned. 

John wasn't in a rut but he was no longer thinking clearly. Dresden's scent and desperation was like a siren's call. Time seem to coalesced, the familiar ritual of heat sharing - fucking, knotting, melting and intertwining of bodies just short of a claiming bite.

By the end, Dresden had been reduced to the blubbering mess, as bad as John had seen him earlier, covered in bodily fluids and bruises courtesy of John. He'd marked John up just as good, had offered his neck to John various times in between, begging with his body but not in words. John had seen omegas who completely lost themselves to the heat fever. Dresden didn't seem to be the type but then again John had never shared his heats properly. He'd lost count how many times Dresden orgasmed, he'd lost track of time, whether it was due to this strange heat magic or not, John couldn't tell.

But Dresden smelled incredible now, the sickly sweet scent dissipating gradually to be replaced by Dresden own natural omega musk and John's own scent. He had Dresden bent almost in half, his knees pushed to his ears, thrusting slowly. Dresden heaved a sob, scrabbling against the sheets. “I can't,” he wailed. “I - John, _John_.” 

“One more,” John coaxed, rubbing Dresden's flank gently. His knot had gone down but he was still hard - the miracle of alpha biology around an omega in heat. Dresden mewled, cock twitching against his stomach. He'd been coming dry for a while now, had to be in pain but when John shifted and picked up the pace, he arched with a helpless groan. John kissed him as he came, messy and uncoordinated, swallowing Dresden's moans, his own orgasm building in intensity but an afterthought. 

A moment later, Dresden had dozed off for real this time, John gathered him close and breathed in his scent, the alpha in him content. In a post orgasmic haze it was almost easy to mistaken bliss and affection for something else. 

 

\--

Later, much later when John had regained enough energy to move, he disentangled himself from Dresden, who groaned softly when John slipped out of him then curled in on himself, looking oddly vulnerable. John dismissed the urge to climb back into bed and wrap himself around Dresden as the usual alpha protective instincts.

Dresden's mancave was partially a basement which meant it was only almost bearable in the summer heat. Maybe he kept it cool with spells but right now sweat was dripping down John's back after being plastered to Dresden for several hours. He figured out how to work the shower, making a mental note to fix the sorry state of Dresden's plumbing. Having bathed and dressed in the only clean boxers he could find, he wiped Dresden down again and went to search the kitchen for food.

Dresden didn't have a fridge but he did have an ice box, stuffed mostly with beer and water bottles and other unidentified substances. John had better luck in the larder, Murphy has filled it with bread, canned food and pasta. She had also left a note for Dresden explaining she had taken a mouse and a Mister with her and Dresden could come over to get them back. John shrugged after reading it. Dresden had a lot of weirdness in his life.

The man himself appeared while John was doing his best to make canned chicken noodle soup more palatable. He was dressed only in a worn unzipped hoodie and nothing else. He slunk into a chair with a wince and watched John put together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

John placed the bowl of soup in front of him. Dresden looked even more disheveled than this morning, when he greeted John, his eyelashes were clumped together with tears, eyes red and puffy, hair an even bigger mess but he finally smelled like himself, and more distinctly, he smelled like John. It was enough to make his cock stir, awaken the urge to fuck Dresden on the table.

Dresden must have smelled his arousal; he looked up, gaze sharp and clear, shifting in his seat. John backed away - they both needed the space - and made himself another sandwich while Dresden helped himself to the soup.

“You didn't need to come,” Dresden said breaking the silence at last, his voice hoarse.

“You have your friend Miss Murphy to thank,” John said. “She asked me personally. On your behalf, apparently.”

“Why would she - Hell's bells,” Dresden muttered into his soup, face going pink. “I wasn't - that was the heat-magic. It practically drove me insane.”

“Good thing she had enough sense to ask for help.”

“It wasn't going to kill me, if that's what you're implying,” Dresden said testily. He put the spoon aside and started drinking straight from the bowl. “Look,” he went on after downing half the bowl. John wanted to lick the oily sheen from his lips. “I'm not - ungrateful. I didn't want you around because I was….” Afraid, probably. Distrustful. Worried John might go into a rut and claim him as a mate, with Dresden half out of his mind, actively begging for it, there was no way he could resist.

There would be no going back. The only way a mating bond would break was if either mate died. 

“How are you doing it?” Dresden asked. “I admit, I assumed the worse. But.” He gestured at Marcone, waiting for an explanation.

“High-grade inhibitors. In this case, military issued and custom made. They wouldn't hold up otherwise,” John replied. To be more accurate, the inhibitors were a tactical kit used primarily in special forces. You didn't want a soldier going into rut on a mission, in the middle of enemy territory, the nearest facility forty miles away. John still had his medical records and ex-military contacts to engineer inhibitors for emergencies.

“Oh. I… well, that's cool,” Dresden said and grimaced, looking chastised. He exhaled shakily. “John, I appreciate everything you're doing. I just thought you would have jumped at the chance to collar me. You've always acted like… but clearly, I was wrong. And I'm sorry.”

John let him stew in his misplaced guilt before asking, “So how do you feel?”

“A lot better. I was in a lot of pain. The only time I had a heat this bad was my very first one and I had to -” He abruptly stopped, mouth an unhappy line and he shook himself like he was shaking off a bad memory. “It was bad,” he repeated softly. John didn't know which heat he was referring to but he could read between the lines. He always had an inkling that someone, maybe more than one, had hurt Dresden badly when he was younger. 

“Harry.” John put down the PB and J sandwich he wasn't eating. “I'm not interested in getting a mate.”

Dresden stilled, surprised relief made him raise his eyebrows. Then he snorted. “Figures.”

“And if I did, it wouldn't be under forced circumstances.” He had no intentions of bonding with Dresden, at least not yet. Not only because John enjoyed his own independence but because he could foresee the extremely destructive ways they would tear one another apart, with Dresden unwilling and John indifferent. 

Dresden eyed him carefully, frowned when he couldn't make out what John was thinking. “I didn't think you would. Not every alpha has the foresight to do what you did. I'm a PI. I've seen a fair amount of alphas and omegas caught in a bond they didn't want,” he said at last. He was absently fiddling with the end of his hoodie. John found himself staring at the dark trail of hair from his navel to the soft curve of his cock.

Dresden cleared his throat.

“What happened with the warlock?” John asked.

“Think it's pretty obvious it was a sex spell of some sort. Not very creative.”

And if Dresden had gone into heat then and there, John didn't need to imagine the outcome. Or perhaps the warlock would have killed them both when they were distracted.

“And I take it you've “fucked it out of your system”,” John said.

“You could say that,” Dresden muttered as he gazed at his soup, not meeting John's eyes.

“Do you want me to leave?” John asked politely when the silence got too uncomfortable.

“I…” He shut his mouth, expression torn. ”Marcone, whatever this is… it’s not going to work. I don't think I need to explain why. This was a bad idea from the start, I should never have -" He sighed. “Look, we've had a fun run. Let's end this before it blows up in our faces.” 

So it was back to ‘Marcone’ now. Maybe it was the effect of the heat, the terrible bed hair and the way Dresden was rubbing at the bruises on his hip while he waited for John to response - Dresden sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

It didn't mean he was wrong.

“You're scared because caring for someone like me shakes you off your moral high horse? The fact that we've come this far is because you've already made compromises with your principles, Harry. Face the facts.”

Dresden scowled. “And I'm making an obvious effort to _keep_ to my principles, thanks.”

This was why Dresden drove John up the wall sometimes - the moral rigidity. John was always more of a relativist. Still he had to respect Dresden for not budging but it was worth a try. John exhaled slowly. “You set the rules here, Dresden. But you're still an omega. All I'm saying is that if you need an alpha, you come to me. Because in all honesty I can't stand the idea of you with someone else,” John admitted.

Dresden swallowed, the surprise fading from his face. After a moment he nodded, still uncertain. “Okay.”

“Now do you want me to go?” John asked. He wasn't sure Dresden's heat had ended completely but the man was definitely capable of handling himself. This was Dresden's domain, his safe space, in any under circumstances John would never have been allowed inside. He'd understand if Dresden preferred him gone.

“Post heats are shitty for discussions,” Dresden said finally. “And frankly so is your soup. I'd get take out but I have nothing to wear to even greet the pizza delivery guy.” 

The corner of John's mouth twitched upwards. “I'll get someone to send something over. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Dresden stood and walked over, crowding John against the counter. His mouth was warm and soft. John was hit by a sense of deja vu, the first time they had kissed, Dresden straddling him on his office chair, sudden and messy and filthy. This kiss was nothing like the first one; Dresden kiss was gentle, just a press of lips before he drew away and yet it had John's breath catching. "I don't think I've said it so thank you,” Dresden said.

“You're welcome,” John said. 

Dresden wasn't the only one who had made compromises. He could pretend nothing was going to change for Dresden's sake but John knew better. Sooner or later, one of them was going to push the other too hard, tread on toes to often for the other to turn a blind eye and it would come crashing down. 

But for now - he tugged Dresden closer and kissed him again - for now, they had this.

**Author's Note:**

> I really did not know how to end this series because John and Harry canonically have such a complex tumultous relationship. I hope I did the characters justice even if this was a a/b/o pwp.


End file.
